CHAPTER IV. A RAMBLE TO TIVOLI, FRASCATI, ALBANO, &c. AFTER my wanderings within the walls of old and venerable churches or crumbling cloisters, whose silent aisles and fading monuments fail not eventually to cast a tinge of their own melancholy on the most buoyant spirit, I prefer roaming through the free air of the campagna, and noting down my impressions of the wild hills of Tivoli, to proceeding immediately to the ruins of the Forum, as I had intended. I quitted Rome one brilliant morning provided only with a cane, to the end of which was attached a small silk net, for the capture of some of the glittering butterflies that flutter in such numbers over the flowers of that beautiful waste, a box of sandwiches, and a small flask of wine. On this side of Rome the campagna presents an air of cultivation near the gates, and cornfields and vineyards, for some distance, border the road; but I felt more free, and my step seemed to gain elasticity, as I left all traces of industry, and gradually gained the open plain-the wide and green campagna, profusely gemmed with its brightly coloured flowers. But it is most beautiful in early spring, when the scarlet cyclamen and snowy daisy mingle with the green, and thousands of the Apennine anemone embroider its surface; yet even now it was carpeted with the blushing petals of an endless variety of flowers, many of which were familiar acquaintances of our gardens*. All was sparkling in the moistness of the morning, and a rising sun shot its long rays athwart its flowery expanse, changing to many-coloured gems each single drop that glittered upon the wiry blades of its short herbage. All was silent as I advanced: the carolling of the larks did not herald in the morn, and it was but rarely that even the guiding bell of a flock of goats turned The cliffs at the foot of the hills abound with daphnes, campanulas, and passerinas; higher up, the woods are brilliant with verbascums, primulas, and orchidaceous plants, many rare and beautiful species of which are found in the marshy portions of the plain; where in drier places the wild tulip and many species of squill are seen in profusion. out to browse upon the waste-disturbed the stillness. I pushed forward, braced by the fresh air of the morning, and was seven or eight miles from Rome ere I thought of calculating my distance; so completely had I been occupied by the fresh beauty of the scene, and the dreamy thoughts of other times, which this flowery desert never fails to inspire. As you near the ridge of Apennines, that belt the plain, they assume a thousand rugged and picturesque outlines which distance had softened into flowing curves, and, by degrees, you distinguish upon many of the steepest points, the walls of those ancient towns of Latium, with their historical names, surmounting the very apex of the mountain tops, like mural crowns. Upon an elevated spot on the left, commanding the road, stands a crumbling ruin ; a monument, like many others of its class, of the abuses of the feudal system. Here at this castel Arcione, a noble Roman family, from whom it took its name, but which is now extinct, levied toll upon all passengers between Tivoli and Rome, frequently stripping them to the skin, and otherwise maltreating them; until the den, with its marauding inmates, were at last destroyed by the aroused people of Tivoli, unable longer to support the nuisance*. Soon afterwards I reached the acque albule, whose strong sulphureous smell I scented full a mile before reaching them†. The stream of the acque albule proceeds from a group of small lakes, a short distance from the road, whose floating islands, (formed of sulphuric concretions) which move about the surface of the waters at the whim of the wind, are many of them covered with tufts of grass and plants, whose seeds have fallen and germinated there. But they would in reality be scarcely worthy of notice had they not been rendered celebrated in classic verse. The Romans had baths here, and sumptuous remains of their magnificence have been at different times disinterred. The stream, as it issues from the standing waters of the lake, brightens and becomes beautifully clear; it has a lovely tinge of blue, whilst the delicate white deposit with which it covers its bed, renders it at eight o'clock in the morning, just as the rays of the sun are beginning to scorch the shoulders, a most tempting bath; one whose invitation I did not decline, and it was one of the * Such were the renowned ancestors of half the nobility of Europe. + Such occurrences appear perhaps scarcely worthy of noting down, and yet, the sensations I experienced in beholding the simplest object along this antique road over which I had so often travelled, in the greedily devoured books of every tourist of my time, were more than can be expressed by words. I seemed to recognise every feature as an old acquaintance, endeared by all the associations of a long friendship, and yet, now for the first time seen, they possessed also to the full extent the all-surpassing charm of complete novelty. And these mingling emotions, giving importance to the most trifling things, must be my excuse for any trivial description or observation that may occur in this, to me, most delightful of rambles. most delightful plunges I ever enjoyed. My sulphur bath excited my appetite, and shortly after, I followed a trickling stream, that crossed the road, to its source, and finding it a most delicious spring, sat down to my breakfast, hungry and glowing, and delighted with all around me. The merry lizards, as the sun became more powerful, commenced running up and down, and athwart the ridges of the campagna around me, like little creatures of mechanism set with jewels; and the butterflies now flitted past me in such profusion that I could no longer keep my seat, and jumping up, net in hand, with the first sweep round my head took seven at once, including a beautiful specimen of the "Apollo," a wanderer most likely from the neighbouring Apennines. Before I returned to my deserted breakfast, I had some of the finest specimens I ever met with of the elegant Colias Edusa, the golden Cleopatra, the veined white, and a variety of the pretty fly, which English collectors call the Bath beauty. The air became actually crowded with the painted beauties of the insect world; it seemed as though all the flowers of the campagna had taken wing, and as the sun shone upon the gorgeous, petal-like wings, they were almost too vivid to look upon. As I resumed my meal, tempering the contents of my flask with the sparkling water of the spring, I observed near to my feet one of those beautiful lizards of emerald green, whose bright colour immeasurably surpasses the glittering mail of the rose beetle. This species is much larger than the little playful creatures that fit across the roads, and up and down the old walls of Italy, being full six or seven inches in length. I knew it to be the warning lizard, as it usually called, from an idea current among the peasantry, that many have been frequently preserved by this little reptile from the bite of the viper, of whose approach, a peasant, while sleeping upon the grass, is warned by this green lizard; which instantly begins running briskly over the face and hands of the threatened sleeper, till he awakes; and if he is aware of the meaning of the alarm, hastens to find and destroy the viper. Whether this be true or not, I have certainly observed that wherever I found this lizard, a snake was always near: never on any occasion have I found, upon beating round, that this tradition has not been verified; though I believe all the snakes I found to be of perfectly harmless species, similar to the common hedge snake of England. However this may be, it occurred to me on the present occasion that they might sometimes be vipers, so I began to look cautiously around; and under the very ledge of stone upon which I had just placed my glass, I perceived wreathing along, but visible only here and there between twisted roots, dried grass, and fragments of stone, portions of the largest European serpent I ever beheld: it L was certainly as thick as my wrist, and its length, though that I could only guess at, appeared very considerable; I involuntarily stepped back, and, but for its own activity in springing away, I should inevitably have crushed my warning lizard; when, hearing a rustling behind me, I turned, and discovered close upon me a figure not the best calculated to allay my agitation. There stood a man, above six feet high, his dark eyes lowering upon me, his bearded chin spreading its shaggy fringe over his expansive and sun-burnt chest, a wide mouth partially open, discovering a set of white teeth, apparently displaying themselves at the aspect of booty or prey, for he was a wild looking animal enough; whilst over his shoulder he swung an immense club, and his whole person was studded with arms of various descriptions. Such was the result of my first hasty glance; a second convinced me that my visitant was no other than the eccentric Signor Bi, whose passion for entomology has led him to a life of singular wildness: passing weeks and sometimes months in the campagna, or among the Apennines, with no other shelter night or day than a ruin, or an old tree; the latter however being pretty scarce in the Roman plain. The horrid grin, imagined at my first glance, I perceived to be a smile of salute; the various arms were different implements for taking and preserving insects, and the large club, which he lowered in salute to my butterfly-catcher, I perceived to be nothing more than a net like my own, which I had stuck upright in the ground, and was in fact the finger-post which had guided the eccentric Italian to my rural déjeuné. We had never met before, but our implements of war were a sufficient introduction. I invited my fellow fly-catcher to share my meal, and likewise to assist me in my meditated attack upon the snake, to both of which he willingly consented, and after having destroyed the reptile, preserving the skin, we concluded together a frugal repast which I shall long remember. We exhibited our respective captures of the morning, and effected some exchanges, I receiving a fine scorpion and a tarantula spider in return for some fine, though not rare, specimens of Coleoptera, which I had just taken. With this wild looking, bearded companion, I passed a few of the most agreeable hours of my life, for he opened to my view many new and startling glimpses of the not half-explored regions of the insect world; and his knowledge, not fused in the close chamber, but imbibed in the plain and on the mountain, in the night season and the early dawn, came sparkling, as it were, in its truth and vividness, from the unalloyed fountain of nature herself. There are many who, if they thought at all upon the subject, might consider entomology a frivolous study; but nothing in nature raises the mind to a higher degree of admiration thant he insect world:-"Immense number-endless variety—astonishing metamorphoses-exceeding beauty-complex and wonderful organizations, far exceeding that of the highest ranks of animal creation, all tend to prove an Almighty artificer, and to inspire feelings of astonishment and awe, which can be known in the fullest extent, perhaps to those alone who have penetrated the wonderful secrets with which nature abounds;" and entomology furnishes more links perhaps than any other science to prove the existence of "The mighty chain of being, lessening down Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss." I proceeded in company with my new acquaintance towards Tivoli, and though the sun was become very oppressive, there was a refreshing breeze playing across the campagna, that softened the ardour of the noontide ray, and rendered our walk agreeable. In continuing our way, with many a chase after some painted butterfly, or glittering beetle, or large purple bee, we crossed the little bridge of the Anio, and rested a short distance farther, in the shade of the magnificent tomb of Plautius,—a circular mausoleum in fine preservation, surpassing perhaps even that of Cecilia Metella, on the Appian Way. From hence my companion led me to a hollow behind the first spur of the Apennine chain, in which are the quarries of the celebrated lapis Tiburtinus, now corrupted to Travertino, with which the wonders of ancient and modern Rome were both constructed-the Coliseum and St. Peter's. On the right of the rugged road are the ancient quarries, overgrown with brushwood, and deserted; and on the left, the modern workings, still in activity, and from which stone is daily supplied for the principal works of Rome. We now began rapidly to ascend, and as we quitted the plain, luxuriant woods, olive groves, trailing vineyards, and prolific gardens, began to hem us in on all sides, till we were fairly enclosed between the white walls that border the narrow and steep road up to the town of Tivoli, the ancient Tibur. Nevertheless, we here and there got a peep of surpassing beauty over a broken wall, or through some ruined gateway. Here it was the magnificent but decaying Villa d'Este, with its terraces and statues, its crumbling and streamless fountains, and its groves of towering cypresses; there appeared a convent, the Collegio greco di propaganda-fide, with its broad and many-windowed wings spreading behind the olive groves; and then again, a rich morsel of broken foreground cutting out sharply against the mellowed tints of its mountain back-ground. We enjoyed a |